


Dead to Rights

by Alpined



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-07-10 07:40:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15944819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alpined/pseuds/Alpined
Summary: Waverly Earp is the editor and sole reporter of the Purgatory Sentinel, hell-bent on using the podunk press to take down the gang that's been terrorizing the town for years. Nicole is a newcomer to town with a tendency to wear muscle shirts and conspicuously perform manual labor. Trouble is brewing in Purgatory, and it looks like the two of them might be right in the middle of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Starts out fluffier than I planned but has some dark stuff later - just FYI.

The _Purgatory Sentinel_ wasn’t much of a newspaper. The blame for this could be put firmly at the feet of its founder and sole “reporter”, Ms. Magenta Butterworth (known by most of the town as Ms. Maggie, or sometimes as Mad Maggie if you were feeling mean). Ms. Maggie had started the _Sentinel_ nearly 30 years ago, when she was a young woman of 62. She would lovingly draft each edition on her typewriter, have it reproduced at the local copy shop, and then hand deliver stacks of the four-pager to all the local restaurants, stores, and the town’s single motel. Eventually her nephew bought her a used computer, at which point the _Sentinel_ developed slightly fewer typoes but no other discernable difference.

All of this would be deeply laudable – the determination of an older woman, persevering against age and a skeptical community – if the paper wasn’t such astounding garbage. One quarter of the front spread was consistently devoted to Ms. Maggie’s cat D’Onofrio, a very large, very snaggle-toothed calico that faintly resembled Wilford Brimley. (When D’Onofrio died, his obituary took up the entire paper that week). The remainder of the paper featured columns entirely authored by Ms. Maggie, featuring such headlines as, “Are gnomes real?”, “Who Stole My Tomato Plant: An In-depth Investigation,” and “The Internet: Here to Stay, or Just a Passing Trend?”

Sometimes she’d allow a guest column by one of the Purgatory townsfolk. Inevitably, these columns served as forums for conspiracy theories or personal vendettas, and the occasional thinly-veiled advertisement for a local business. Halfway through the aughts, Ms. Maggie started allowing personal ads, but didn’t bother to proofread them. Thus the back page of the _Sentinel_ became a mixture of black market sales, missed connections, and deeply inappropriate advertisements for the local strip club.

In essence, the _Purgatory Sentinel_ contained no news, very little sense, and more soft-core pornography than one might expect. That said, it was read by pretty much every member of Purgatory proper, and there weren’t many folks in town who didn’t have pretty strong opinions on Ms. Maggie’s new cat, the state of her garden, the existence of angels, and various other recurring subjects in the paper.

So when Ms. Maggie finally got too ill to keep publishing, the town mourned, and it seemed all too clear there would be no more publications. That was where Waverly Earp came in.

Like everyone else her age, she’d grown up reading the _Purgatory Sentinel_. But unlike everyone else in town, she’d somehow got it in her head that she wanted to become a real journalist, and thought the paper left something to be desired. 

When Ms. Maggie announced that she was retiring, Waverly had marched herself right up to Ms. Maggie’s door and asked (very sweetly, of course) if she could take over the paper. Ms. Maggie had eyed her suspiciously, trying to determine if this was some kind of prank. But Ms. Maggie also knew that Waverly wasn’t like the boys who threw eggs at her house, or the gaggle of girls who would mock her in the grocery store parking lot. Waverly was a good girl, even if her pa had got himself killed in the worst way, and even if her sister was wild as a wolverine in the alpine tundra.

So it was that Waverly, at the ripe old age of 21, became the editor and sole reporter for the _Purgatory Sentinel_. She began by updating the format, adding actual news about the town, and featuring occasional interviews with different community members. Folks grumbled at first, complaining that there wasn’t enough cat news and that they had to go on the internet now to sell their weird, borderline illegal shit. But people came around for the most part, in part because it was damn hard to be too mad in the face of an earnest Waverly Earp.

Waverly was pleased with the changes she had made, and proud that she was taking baby steps towards working at a real newspaper. But most of all, she was glad she finally had a way to expose that sonofabitch Bobo del Rey and his cursed, no-good, murderous gang of Revenants.

*****

“Where are you off to so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?” Wynonna drawled from her position sprawled out on the living room couch, one leg draped over the side of the sofa and very clearly wearing the same clothes as the day before.

Frankly, Waverly was surprised Wynonna was awake this early. She’d heard her stumble home some time around four that morning, and had fully expected her to still be snoring by the time Waverly was ready to leave.

“Couldn’t find your way upstairs last night?” Waverly asked tartly, avoiding Wynonna’s question. 

Wynonna rolled her eyes and then immediately groaned. “Sonofabitch, remind me not to roll my eyes when I’m hung over.”

Waverly raised an eyebrow. “Wynonna, how would you _possibly_ survive if you couldn’t roll your eyes at everyone?”

Wynonna grinned and shrugged, wincing again as the motion jostled her head. “That’s a fair point, baby girl. You always were the smart one in the family.”

“Oh, I know,” Waverly said seriously, and then had to laugh when Wynonna pouted at her. “You know Wynonna, you’d be awful smart too if you weren’t so terrible dumb. Everyone knows you can drink the whole town under the table – you don’t have to keep proving it.”

“Uggggggh,” Wynonna responded, flopping over dramatically. “Stop lecturing me,” she continued, her voice muffled by the pillow.

Waverly shook her head, glad Wynonna couldn’t see the half-fond, half-sad look on her face. “I just worry about you, that’s all,” she said, softer this time. “If you don’t want me to take care of you, you’ve got to take care of yourself.”

Wynonna kept her head buried in the pillow but stuck her arm out to give an unseeing, deeply sarcastic thumbs up. Waverly sighed again, grabbing her summer jacket from the coat rack.

“Alright, fine. There’s fresh coffee on the counter, and a box of Timbits – I know you like those when you’re hung over.”

Wynonna finally lifted her face so she could squint at Waverly. “I ever tell you you’re my favorite sister?”

“I better be,” Waverly said, before turning to open the door into the brisk Alberta air. As she was closing the door behind her, she heard Wynonna yell,

“Hey! You never told me where you’re going!”

*****

Where Waverly was going was the lumber yard. What Waverly had not wanted to tell Wynonna was her reason for going to the lumber yard, which was to follow a lead. And the reason Wynonna would certainly not like Waverly following this particular lead was that her ultimate goal was to make her way up the Revenant food chain all the way to Bobo del Ray. 

The thing was, everyone knew Bobo del Rey was the leader of the Revenants, and everyone knew the Revenants were responsible for a sled-load of violence, drug-running, and general shitty mischief. There weren’t many folks in town without a cousin or a friend who’d had a run in with the Revenants and come out worse for the wear, or who hadn’t seen some shady business go down in the dark of night and backed slowly away, praying not to be noticed.

Yet despite this universally acknowledged understanding, Bobo del Rey and his ilk had never been convicted of a crime. No witness would go on the record against him, for fear of what would happen to the soft parts of their bodies or those of their families. Evidence against the Revenants had a habit of disappearing, as did witnesses. As for the local PD, they consistently turned a blind eye. Sheriff Nedley would make occasional, milquetoast public statements about the importance of trying men based on evidence, not public opinion. At this point, the corruption of the local Sheriff’s department was as accepted as the ten-year-old pothole in the middle of Delaney Street.

It was wrong, is what it was, and Waverly wasn’t going to stand for it anymore. If the cops wouldn’t do their jobs, then she would find a way to expose Bobo del Rey and force the hand of law enforcement. She told herself she was doing this out of a general sense of justice, and that it had nothing to do with her daddy, or Wynonna.

In between shifts at Shorty’s, Waverly had spent the better part of three months digging up potential leads on the Revenants. She was well-loved by the town, which meant folks opened up to her. It didn’t hurt that her real job was as a bartender, and she had been the recipient of more drunken secrets than she could count (most of which had nothing to do with gang activity and everything to do with gross sexual hangups). Everyone went to Shorty’s (well, almost everyone), which is how Waverly had gradually come to suspect that quite a bit of Bobo del Rey’s business went down in the lumber yard that edged the north side of town.

After parking her worse-for-the-wear, 1987 Chevy Caprice in the Pimento Lumber Yard’s parking lot, Waverly made her way through the two wooden posts that served as a gate. The lumber yard was a bit of a compound, with several large wooden structures scattered across about fifteen acres of land. The area was littered with wood scraps and dangerous-looking equipment, and enough broken beer bottles to make Waverly think this place might get pretty wild at night. She’d never really had a reason to visit this part of town, so she made an uneducated guess and headed towards the first building to her right.

Waverly had to admit the air out here was nice – crisp and green and fresh, at that sweet spot before September tipped into October and breathing felt like swallowing frost. She followed the faint sound of sawing around the corner of the building, and then stopped short.

A figure was bent over a saw horse, oblivious to Waverly as she held a long piece of wood with one hand and confidently sawed away with the other. Waverly could see the woman’s jeans, cuffed at the bottom where they hit a pair of sturdy work boots. Though there was already a slight chill in the air, the woman wore a white muscle shirt cut far enough down the ribs to show a black sports bra underneath. Her short red hair was pulled up into a small ponytail, the wisps of escaping hair at the nape of her neck damp with sweat.

Waverly had stopped suddenly, unsure whether it was dangerous to interrupt the woman as she worked. The decision was taken out of her hands when the woman straightened up, setting down the saw and leaning backwards into a prolonged stretch. Then she turned around and froze, clearly not expecting anyone to be watching her.

 _Oh_ , Waverly thought, breathing in sharply. _Oh no_.

She was…well, she was pretty. Real pretty. And when the surprise of seeing Waverly faded and she smiled, honest-to-god dimples popped in her cheeks like she was Clark freaking Gable. Waverly felt slightly weak.

“Hi,” she managed to squeak out, giving a little wave.

“Howdy,” the woman said, grinning at her slowly as she removed her work gloves. “Can I help you with something?”

“Um, maybe?” Waverly said with a hopeful lilt to her voice. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your, um…sawing, by the way.”

The woman shrugged. “Don’t even worry about it – I was actually just about to take a break. “Speaking of which, ‘scuse me.” The woman bent over and grabbed a water bottle from the ground and took a long draught, her throat bobbing as the water went down.

 _Crappity crap_ , Waverly thought, before clearing her throat as the woman finished drinking. “Right, so, I’m Waverly, by the way. Waverly Earp.”

“Nice to meet you, Waverly Earp,” the woman said, taking a step towards Waverly and extending her hand. “I’m Nicole Demmy.”

Waverly shook Nicole’s hand, feeling the rough calluses on her fingertips. “You’re new in town, right? I mean, Purgatory’s not very big and I feel like I would know you if you had been around for a while.”

“Yep, only moved here a couple weeks ago,” Nicole said, pulling a handkerchief out of her back pocket and wiping the back of her neck. “I’ve got a cousin who used to work for the Pimento’s – Lonnie Birch, if you know him.” Waverly nodded. She didn’t know Lonnie well, but she recalled him as a nervous kid, always looking over his shoulders at nonexistent threats. “Lonnie’s folks weren’t doing so well so he moved to Toronto. He knew I was looking to make a move, try something new out, and thought I might like to give his old gig a shot. The rest’s history, I guess.”

“I guess so,” Waverly said, nodding a few too many times before remembering why she was there. “So, um, I actually hoped you knew where I could find Jasper Reese?”

“Jasper?” Nicole said, frowning slightly. “I’m still learning names, but I think he works in the processing shed – that’s the second building over there,” she said, pointing to small red building halfway across the compound. “What do you need Jasper for?”

“Well, I’m actually writing a story on the new construction for the East Side Theater, and wanted to talk to Jasper about it. You know, kind of a look at how it comes together, from bottom to top?”

“You mean a newspaper story?” Nicole asked, lifting an eyebrow. “I didn’t know Purgatory even _had_ a newspaper.”

“It does,” Waverly said proudly, “and you’re looking at her. I sort of inherited it, but I’m hoping it’ll give me the practice I need to do real reporting.”

“And you’re starting with Jasper Reese at the lumber yard?”

Waverly frowned, bristling at the hint of criticism. “Well, maybe you don’t know this yet, but not a lot happens in Purgatory. The new cinema is a big deal – there was a fight around zoning laws, and Old Man Henshaw refused to sell his land and got in a fistfight with our only realtor about it, and then people made signs and counter-signs and it was a whole thing. And now that it’s actually going to happen, they think it’ll create at least 40 new jobs, which counts for a lot here. So yeah, I’m interviewing Jasper Reese at the Purgatory Lumber Yard about construction on the new cinema.”

Throughout Waverly’s rant, Nicole’s expression had become more and more chagrined. “Hey, hey,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender, “I didn’t mean to offend you – I was just trying to be funny, and clearly sucking at it. I’m really sorry. I definitely want to read that story when you write it – how do I get myself a subscription to the paper?”

Waverly deflated a little at Nicole’s clear regret, all her anger dissipating. “Well, there’s not actually a way to subscribe? You just have to pick it up at the bar or local restaurant or whatever. It’s not…well, it’s not really much of a newspaper.”

“Hey, I’m sure it’s great,” Nicole said, looking at Waverly with such sweet earnestness it almost made Waverly believe it. “It can’t be easy being the only one covering the news for a whole town. You must like it here, to put in all that work.”

“Like it?” Waverly responded, feeling a sudden stab of confusion. “I’ve only ever lived in Purgatory. I guess I never thought about whether I _like_ it or not.”

“Well, Purgatory is new to me,” Nicole said, smiling at her gently. “And it seems like you might just be the best person to show me around. How’d you feel about grabbing a cup of coffee with me some time?”

“I don’t drink coffee,” Waverly said automatically.

Nicole gave a small laugh. “Tea then. Or beer, whatever. My treat.”

Waverly swallowed, suddenly intensely nervous at the appraising look Nicole was giving her, and at the way her left bicep bulged slightly from holding the water bottle. 

“Well, I work at Shorty’s almost every night – that’s a local bar, if you didn’t know. Maybe…maybe you could come by some time? I can buy _you_ a drink.”

Nicole’s face lit up with a grin, brighter than the sun shining clear through the trees on this crisp September morning. “Deal. It’s nice to meet you, Waverly Earp.”

“You too, Nicole,” Waverly said, giving a shy smile before turning towards the processing building, desperate to get out away from Nicole without stumbling even more over her words.

She swore she could feel Nicole’s eyes on her back as she walked away, and couldn’t help a pleasant shiver that had nothing to do with the weather.


	2. Chapter 2

Waverly really did care about the East Side Theater - truly. It just wasn't her main reason for wanting to talk to Jasper Reese. They'd known each other back in high school, when he was a bench player for the Purgatory High Wolverines and she was a cheerleader. He was a sweet kid, always a little in the shadow of his older brother Hank. When she'd heard he had begun working at the lumber yard, she immediately felt he could be her insider ticket to Bobo's crew.

As she made her way into the processing room, Waverly tried to put Nicole out of her mind. She had serious business to conduct. She would have plenty of time later to consider how it was possible to make sawing wood so damned attractive.

There were about a dozen men in the processing room. A few noticed Waverly when she came in, and looked some combination of confused and threatening. Luckily, one of those men was Jasper. Waverly gave him a small wave and his face lit up.

"Hey Waverly," he said when he reached her, ducking his head a little in her direction. His shaggy blonde hair fell over his eyes, giving Waverly a sudden maternal fear that he'd get it caught in some kind of sharp machinery. "Didn't expect to see you here. Did you need something?"

"You, actually," Waverly said, and laughed at Jasper's confused expression. "I'm doing a story for the Sentinel about the new East Side Theater. Do you think I could interview you?"

"Well sure," Jasper said, sounding surprised and flattered. 

After checking in with his boss on whether he could take a break, Jasper led Waverly to a quiet corner of the building. She led him through a pretty standard interview, asking him about how he got involved in the construction work, what he thought of the theater. At a certain point, Waverly asked how he had gotten the job, and Jasper mentioned Bobo del Rey.

"Bobo del Rey?" Waverly said, trying not to sound too eager. 

"Yeah," Jasper said, looking down at his hands where they twisted and untwisted his baseball cap. "I know everyone says he's not…the best guy, but he really came through for me and my brother when my dad got sick and we both needed jobs."

"Sure," Waverly said lightly, forcing herself to smile in sympathy. "That must have been hard for you two. I can't believe Bobo heard about it and offered you the job, though."

Jasper shrugged. "I think he does that a lot - keeps his eye out for folks who might need work. It's kind of crazy once you realize how many different people around this town work for Bobo in one way or another."

"What do you mean?" Waverly asked, opening her eyes wide and hoping she sounded innocently interested.

Jasper shrugged again. "Well, it's just, Bobo seems like the rough type but he's actually kind of a businessman? He owns the whole lumber yard, you know - it's not just that his crew runs it. And he bought Delia's Grocery a while back, and the laundromat on Frisk, and a bunch of other places you wouldn't think about. He keeps it real quiet, too - never would have thought he'd be the type not to brag, but I guess he doesn't want folks to look at him different."

"Uh huh," Waverly said, trying to make her stiff smile seem more genuine. "I'm sure he's just modest, our Bobo."

She and Jasper talked for a while longer, but she didn't get anything else out of him about Bobo, other than a strong sense that he felt he owed the man for his job. He'd given her plenty to research, though - the fact that Bobo had been quietly buying up half the town was disturbing, the quiet part nearly as much as the buying part.

She gave Jasper a warm goodbye, and he sounded excited about being quoted in the paper. He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was a good kid - she hoped getting caught up with Bobo didn't come back to haunt him.

***

Waverly only realized once she got back to the car how much time had passed. She had just enough time to run a few errands and write a first draft of her story before she had to hustle to get to Shorty's.

Waverly pulled into Shorty's parking lot just as Rosita was getting out of her car. Rosita was holding a king-sized coffee, which probably meant she'd spent the whole day studying. Besides dealing with nightly bullshit at Shorty's, she and Rosita had the shared bond of taking online courses at U of T (though Waverly had to admit Rosita's Biochemistry/Engineering double-major was a little intimidating).

"Hey girl," Rosita said to Waverly once she met up with her, gently bumping her hip against Waverly's as they walked together into the bar. "Get into any trouble today?"

Waverly shrugged. "I don't think so. But the day's young."

Instead of laughing, Rosita nodded seriously as she pushed through Shorty's saloon doors. "True. I think we're in for trouble tonight. I can feel it."

"That's what you said last week," floated Wynonna's voice from where she stood behind the bar, stacking highballs for the evening. "And the most exciting thing that happened was Jamey found out Joey was cheating in cards and told him they couldn't be friends anymore."

"Don't diminish the tragedy of a lost friendship, Wynonna," Waverly admonished, and Rosita nodded vigorously, sticking her tongue out at Wynonna. Wynonna rolled her eyes, which Waverly took to mean she had recovered from her hangover. She was dressed in her usual bar attire of a ratty shirt and black leather jacket, her hair managing to look like it came out of a Pantene ad, even though Waverly knew it probably hadn't been washed in three days.

"Whatever," Wynonna said, meanwhile expertly flipping a glass into the air before gently placing it on the top of one of the stacks. "Are you two going to help me or what?"

They spent the next couple of hours getting the bar prepped - cleaning up from the night before, restocking booze and mixers from the stash in the basement, taking care of a couple of odd bills. Things were pretty much in order by the time opening time rolled around. Per usual, Jessie Northrop was the first through the doors, ordering his usual gross brew of gin, ginger, and pickle juice.

People trickled in slowly after work, and soon the bar was filled with the steady buzz of conversation, laughter, and half-hearted arguments that had become a soundtrack to Waverly's life. She, Wynonna, and Rosita were weaving in and out of each others' space like a well-oiled machine, keeping the bar stocked, the glasses full, and the patrons as happy as a bunch of drunk sonofabitches could be.

Waverly was cleaning up a spill from an overeager patron when she looked up to see Nicole walk in. Nicole had clearly changed clothes, and now wore a cozy-looking red flannel and a pair of faded blue jeans, though she still wore her work boots. Her hair was down now, wavy strands framing her face and ending just above her shoulders. It made her face look softer than it had in the bright light of the early morning.

Nicole looked around, taking in the bar and its patrons, a mildly approving look on her face. Then she caught sight of Waverly. The smile that came to her face was slow and eager, and might as well have been a jumper cable for the way it sent a jolt up Waverly's toes and down to her fingers. _Pull it together, Earp_ , Waverly muttered to herself, before smiling back in Nicole's direction.

Nicole made her way towards Waverly in a way that could only be described as a swagger. She slid onto one of the only available bar stools, sandwiched between Jessie and a rambunctious group of co-eds.

"Howdy," she said, smile growing even wider.

"Hi," Waverly managed back, feeling that dang jumper cable buzzing behind her rib cage. "You made it!"

"I did," Nicole said with a nod, giving the bar another once-over. "It's a nice bar you've got here."

"Oh, it's not mine," Waverly said, her words tumbling over themselves. "It's Wynonna's. Well, it's actually my Aunt Gus's, but Wynonna kind of runs it. That's my sister, by the way, the one in the jacket who's…" she looked over towards Wynonna and frowned…"currently taking shots with the truckers." Wynonna's sharp yelp of laughter shot out from the group of regulars, all of whom were grinning and cheering as she chased her whiskey down with a beer.

"She seems like quite the life of the party," Nicole said, lifting an eyebrow.

"You could say that," Waverly said with a sigh, then shrugged, looking back over at Wynonna fondly. "Believe it or not, she's actually really good at this when she's not getting all Boozey McBoozerson. All the distributors love her, she keeps the drunks in line, and she pours a real mean Gin Fizz when she's in the mood. I don't think anyone could imagine this place without her."

"You two seem close," Nicole offered.

Waverly blinked, realizing she'd just started sharing information like she and Nicole had known each other for years. "We are, now. Didn't used to be that way. But that's a whooole other story," she said, changing her tone in an attempt to change the subject. "And look at me, I haven't even offered you a drink. What can I get you?"

Nicole smiled, dimples popping in that frustratingly appealing way. "How about a sidecar?"

"Easy peasy," Waverly said with a grin, whirling away to grab the bitters and whiskey.

Once she'd made the drink (adding a little more flair than was strictly necessary for a drink that was essentially a muddle-and-serve), she slid it Nicole's way. Nicole took a long, appreciative sip, and Waverly had to remind herself to not look like she was staring. Suddenly she heard Wynonna's voice.

"Hey, Waves, we've got other customers here, you know. This isn't a some hipster craft cocktail joint."

"I know, I know," she yelled over her shoulder, before muttering, "Geez Louise, now she's suddenly all about customer service?"

Nicole laughed. "Go, don't worry about me. I actually see a couple of guys from the lumber yard who said they'd be here tonight - I'll just be right over there if you need me."

Waverly nodded silently, trying not to be a cad by observing the way Nicole's jeans hugged her hips as she walked away. Wynonna shouted at her one more time, so she sighed and turned to the far side of the bar, offering a cheerful, "Who's empty?"

The rest of the evening flew by. Rosita had to verbally shame a couple of patrons, and Wynonna threw another out, but there wasn't much other excitement. Occasionally Waverly made time to check on the table Nicole was at (a service she didn't usually offer). Jasper was there, along with Hiram Flint and Jordan Meese. Jasper gave her a nod, but thankfully didn't mention their earlier conversation. Waverly wasn't the biggest fan of Hiram and Jordan - she wouldn't be surprised if they were wrapped up in Bobo's bullshit - but Nicole seemed to get along with them well enough. Waverly overhead a couple of comments that might have made even Wynonna blush, but Nicole just laughed along and ordered another round of drinks. She always made sure to meet Waverly's eyes and thank her earnestly whenever she swung by for refills.

Another hour passed by, and Waverly turned to see Nicole sliding herself back onto the stool. "Did your friends leave?" Waverly asked, automatically beginning to make Nicole another drink.

"Don't know if they're my friends yet," Nicole mused, "but they did seem to have alternative engagements to attend. Now, Waverly Earp, I've been watching you."

"Me?" Waverly said, not sure how to react to that. "Watching me why?"

Nicole shrugged. "Well, it's hard not to look at the prettiest girl in the room." That really made Waverly blush, but Nicole kept talking as if she hadn't just paid Waverly a compliment that had her lit up like a stoplight. "And I've noticed that everyone here seems to treat you like their best friend - whether they're crying to you or laughing with you."

Waverly shrugged. "Oh, you know - it's all in the smile and wave."

Nicole shook her head. "I'm sure it's more than that. I've heard a bit about you, Waverly Earp. Ain't none of it bad."

"Oh, fiddlesticks," Waverly said, waving her hand dismissively. "Everyone's got bad stuff. I'm just good at listening."

"Well, that's actually what I was hoping you could help me with. I'm new in town, and I feel like I should get to know the folks here. And I know I haven't been here long, but I reckon you're just about the best person in Purgatory to give me the people low-down."

"It's not exactly the cream of the crop at Shorty's at this time of night," Waverly pointed out.

Nicole shrugged. "Cream of the crop's boring. I'm interested in…whatever the opposite of the cream is?" She laughed. "Never did understand how that metaphor worked, I guess. Anyway, I want to know it all - good and bad. And I'll pay you back, I swear - maybe I could buy you dinner?"

Waverly sure didn't know how to respond to that, so she opted to ignore the offer and launch into a spirited description of Jessie Northrop, his gross drinking preferences, and the wife that was the cause of it all. Then Waverly moved on to describing the surprisingly complex ecosystem of truckers, bikers, and everyday citizens in town, frequently interrupting herself to go serve other patrons. Nicole didn't seem to mind the interruptions.

Nicole seemed generally interested in all the weird petty feuds and weirder personalities that made up Purgatory, and Waverly found herself reacting to Nicole's laugh, trying to one-up her own stories. She was just telling the story of how Allister Jenkins had stolen Jordan Meese's pa's Chevy Chevelle - which, as it turned out, had about two pounds of cocaine in the trunk at the time - when Dolls rolled in.

Nicole immediately frowned when she noticed Waverly's indrawn breath, looking Dolls' way. "Who's that tall drink of water?" she asked, looking at Dolls with a raised eyebrow.

"That's Dolls," Waverly responded with a sigh, watching as he headed over to Wynonna's part of the bar. "He's Wynonna's…well, it's complicated."

They both watched as Wynonna turned around and caught sight of Dolls as he slid onto a stool. Wynonna's face did a convoluted series of acrobatics - tumbling from surprise, to eagerness, to suspicion, before finally settling on feigned indifference. 

"Why's it so complicated?" Nicole asked, watching as Wynonna poured Dolls a drink and leaned on the bar in the universal pose of flirting.

"Because Wynonna's impossible and incapable of letting herself be happy?" Waverly said caustically. "Also it probably doesn't help that Dolls is a cop."

"Never does," Nicole agreed. As if realizing they were talking about her, Wynonna looked their way and began sauntering over from behind the bar.

"Alright Waves," she said, giving Nicole a hard look. "Who's this tall, pale, and pretty-handsome you've been spending all your time with tonight?"

Waverly glared at Wynonna. "This is Nicole Demmy. She's new in town and I offered to fill her in on some of Purgatory's…quirks. Nicole, this is Wynonna, my sister. Be careful - she's kind of a jerk."

"Only when it's called for," Wynonna insisted, holding out her hand. Nicole took her hand and shook it firmly, which Wynonna seemed to appreciate.

"So what's your deal, eh?" Wynonna asked, narrowing her eyes at Nicole. "Ex-convict? Ex-Mormon? Nobody comes to Purgatory if they're not running from something."

Nicole shrugged. "I'm not an ex-anything. And I'm not running from anything either. Just needed some work, had a cousin who said I'd find some here, and figured I'd try my luck."

"Uh huh," Wynonna said, sounding unconvinced. "What'd you say to my sister to get her to keep slinging you all those fancy cocktails and ignoring our other good-paying, asshole customers?"

"Wynonna!" Waverly admonished, feeling herself blush. She glanced at Nicole, who had hastily taken a gulp of her drink, clearly willing to let Waverly take this one. "Nicole's just a new friend, that's all. _Some_ of us still know how to be nice to new folk."

"Ew," Wynonna said, waving a hand dismissively. "Who has time to be _nice_ these days?"

"Seemed like you were being awful nice to Dolls a few minutes ago," Waverly said tartly, smirking at the scowl that shook out of Wynonna.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Wynonna said haughtily, lifting her chin like a petulant three-year-old.

Waverly rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Wynonna. But you better climb that beanstalk before Chrissy Nedley does." At Waverly's words, Wynonna jerked her head towards where Chrissy was leaning on the bar and staring into Dolls's eyes, one finger idly making circles around the rim of his glass. 

Wynonna narrowed her eyes. "That hussy," she whispered menacingly, completely ignoring her former protestation that she cared nothing about Dolls. She turned back to Nicole. "Well, whatever your deal is, welcome to Purgatory. Don't eat any of the meat at 24-Hour-Diner, don't drink any of Carl Hemsworth's moonshine, and don't piss off the biker gang. And stick with Waverly. You'll probably be fine." 

Before Nicole could even respond, Wynonna had spun away and begun to head determinedly towards Dolls. Waverly saw Chrissy look up and catch sight of Wynonna. Her face went pale; she hesitated a moment as if she might actually hold her ground, but then she scowled, grabbed her drink, and slunk away towards the table Champ Hardy was at.

"Boy," Nicole said, and Waverly turned back to see Nicole's eyebrows fully raised. "She's quite a lot, huh?"

"Well, you caught her on a good day," Waverly said breezily. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Me?" Nicole said, before shaking her head. "Nope. I was a bit of an accident myself - I think my parents got a little more careful after they had me." She said the words lightly, so it was hard for Waverly to tell if there was any sting to them.

"What do your parents do?" Waverly said. "Actually, hold that thought." She swung around and took a quick lap of the bar, refilling drinks, wiping down a spill, and closing three tabs. Rosita gave her a pointed look, glancing back at Nicole and lifting an eyebrow.

"You getting paid full-time to flirt with Red over there?"

"Oh, shush," Waverly said, flicking her rag at Rosita, who easily avoided it. "Everyone's getting served just fine. If you really think I'm slacking, I'll give you a cut of my tips."

"Deal," Rosita said promptly, which Waverly hadn't entirely been expecting. But she took it as carte blanche to go back to chatting with Nicole.

"Ok, so, I was asking about your parents."

"Fred and Deborah Demmy?" Nicole asked, sounding faintly amused. "I don't know that they're all that interesting. Real hippy type - always going to music festivals, about 50% of their t-shirts had pictures of the Dead on them. I grew up thinking Jerry Garcia was my Grandpa and was awfully disappointed when I discovered that's not why we had pictures of him everywhere."

Waverly laughed, resting her chin on her hand as she listened to Nicole. Nicole looked down at her almost-empty glass, giving it an idle spin on the countertop. "I think I was a bit of an afterthought," she mused, not meeting Waverly's eyes. "I always kind of felt like they forgot I was there - like they were surprised every time they came home and found me lookin' for something to eat at the house." She looked back up at Waverly and gave a little half-laugh, as if trying to brush it off.

"I'm sorry," Waverly said, reaching over to cover Nicole's hand in hers. "That sounds hard."

Nicole gave Waverly's hand a grateful squeeze, but then shrugged and grinned. "It wasn't so bad. Made it easy to sneak all sorts of stuff into my room - booze, girls. Negligent parents make troublemaking downright boring, sometimes."

Waverly ducked her head to hide a smile, briefly wondering what it would have been like to be one of those girls Nicole snuck into her room all those years ago.

"What about you?" Nicole asked, tilting her head to the side as she looked at Waverly. "What kind of parents raised the likes of you two?" She jerked her chin Wynonna's way, where Waverly's sister was currently arm-wrestling Kemp Jones while Dolls looked on with barely-concealed amusement.

"Well, Mama left when I was five," Waverly said matter-of-factly. "And Daddy died when we were teenagers. And that is definitely not the kind of story I'm willing to tell your first night at Shorty's."

"Oh, geeze Waverly, I'm sorry," Nicole said, her voice flooded with warm sympathy. She squeezed Waverly's hand again. 

Waverly shrugged. "It's the Earp curse - we've got more wretched luck than Job. But like I said, that's not a story for tonight. Tonight I get you another drink so you can be nice and hungover for your job tomorrow."

Nicole groaned. "Wish you hadn't reminded me. We've got a big job over at the Feller's homestead at the earliest crack of dawn tomorrow."

Waverly winced in sympathy. "Sorry for that. Bold of you to brave Shorty's knowing what you're in for tomorrow morning."

"Well I couldn't very well miss out on an invitation to see you, could I?"

Waverly rolled her eyes at that, but a little thrill shot through her that felt like something exciting, and something new. She was just trying to formulate how to respond when she looked up to see Lee Cormack, Armen March, and a whole mess of Revenants come through the door.

"Oh fucknuckle," Waverly hissed, pulling her hand away from Nicole's.

"What?" Nicole said in confusion, turning to see about a half dozen men in black leather enter the bar, immediately appraising the room like they owned the place. "Who are they?"

"Revenants," Waverly spat. "Bunch of shit-ticket, low-rent gang members that know damn well they're not welcome here. If they're here it means they're already drunk and looking for trouble."

Nicole's face was grim when she turned back to Waverly. "What about Dolls? You said he's a cop - could he spook them away?"

Waverly made a face. "It's complicated. Shorty's is kind of neutral zone, mayhem-wise. Brawls usually get overlooked, as long as nobody pulls a gun or something sharp. Cops don't bother our patrons, at least not officially, and in return we keep the rougher elements from doing business here. But those men who just came in? Definitely the rougher elements."

Waverly glanced over at Wynonna, who had just caught sight of Lee and his crew. Wynonna's back had gone stiff, and her face looked like the edge of a glacier. Lee sauntered up to the bar, his dumbshit leather pants hanging tight to the gut he'd been working on since he didn't graduate high school.

"I'll take a couple bottles of whiskey," he said, loud enough for the whole bar to hear. His words were a little slurred, but his expression was clear as he looked at Wynonna. The bar was slowly growing quiet as folks stopped their conversation to see what the commotion was about.

"There's plenty of whiskey down the road at the depot," Wynonna said, her voice flat and menacing. "I suggest you go there to get your jollies on."

"I don't want to go to the de-pot, Wy-nonna Earp," Jeb said, drawing the words out like taffy on his tongue. "I'm an honest customer with cash to burn, just like anyone else. And I'm asking you for some drinks for me and my boys here."

"And _I'm_ asking that you take your bad breath, ugly mug, and tiny-dicked friends out of here before I break a bottle of whiskey across that stupid fucking face," Wynonna said, her voice just as sweet as could be. 

Waverly closed her eyes and breathed out through her nose. "Oh boy," she said quietly, just loud enough for Nicole to hear.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that Dolls had somehow inserted himself between Lee and Wynonna, his back against the bar. "I think what my friend was trying to say - not very eloquently - is that it might be best for everyone if you all just took yourselves somewhere else for the night. I'll even buy the first round."

Lee nodded a few times, grinning widely as his gaze shifted between Wynonna's jagged expression and Dolls' falsely calm one. He kept nodding, turning around as if to leave. Then, without warning, he swung back around, right fist flying towards Dolls' face.

Of course, Dolls' was neither drunk nor a fool, and he was also a heavily muscled, highly trained police officer. So he easily caught Lee's fist, looking almost bored as he pulled it wide and buried his other fist in Lee's ribs. Lee let out a pained grunt and doubled over. 

Waverly barely had time to roll her eyes at everyone's universally poor de-escalation skills, before chaos broke out. Lee's men let out a collective shout of rage and launched themselves towards Dolls. At almost the same time, Wynonna flung herself over the bar feet-first, letting the momentum carry her feet square into Armen's face. He went down like a sack of potatoes, and Waverly thought she might have heard the snap of his nose breaking. Waverly saw Dolls barrel into another man shoulder-first, and saw Jessie wheel off his stool to throw a wild, drunken swing towards a fourth Revenant.

She looked over at Nicole, meaning to apologize for this whole situation, only to see Nicole standing up and carefully rolling up her sleeves.

"Don't you dare," Waverly said, pointing her finger at Nicole in the most menacing way she could manage. "This is not your fight, Nicole Demmy."

"Sorry, girlie," Nicole said with an apologetic grin and a wink, grabbing her drink and draining the last of it. "I'm not really the sitting-out type." And without further notice, she launched herself towards the whirling mass of people, grabbing Lee by the collar and _yanking_ him back just as he was lunging towards Wynonna. By this point, half the bar had joined one side or the other, while the other half had either left the bar or migrated to the edges of the room, where they were taking bets on which side would win.

Waverly sighed and began to walk slowly towards the far end of the bar. That's where she found Rosita leaning casually against the bar top, a bored expression on her face as she watched the chaos unfold in front of her. They exchanged a look of irritation, and Rosita gave a one-shouldered shrug, as if to distance herself from the whole mess.

"Bunch of Neanderthals," Waverly muttered, meanwhile reaching under the cash register to grab Patrice. She began walking towards the area on the other side of the bar where the fight was thickest. She caught sight of Nicole swinging what looked like a wicked right hook towards Earn Dax's face, and saw Wynonna grinning as she tackled Lee to the ground, probably for the second time that night. Dolls was in there too, easily holding his own against two not-entirely-sober Revenants.

With a final shake of her head, Waverly cocked Patrice one-handed, aimed her towards the Shooting Wall, and fired.

The sound of the shotgun was deafening, and the effect was immediate. Struggling bodies stopped fighting, instinctively covering their heads against perceived danger. Nicole stepped back from where she had someone in a headlock, panting heavily and wiping a thickening line of blood from the side of her face. Wynonna looked almost disappointed, but took a second to kick Lee in the ribs where he lay on the ground.

"Alright, assholes," Waverly yelled, her voice reverberating across the room. "Fun's over. You're all a bunch of idiots and I'm too damned tired for this nonsense - it's a Tuesday for Christ's sake. Everybody get the hell out of our bar or you better be ready for a face full of lead." To underscore her words, she cocked the gun again. "And don't you think we don't know who has and hasn't paid their tab," she added. "I expect all of you back tomorrow to make even."

Some folks moved faster than others, but they all moved. The gang of Revenants glared at Waverly, but they picked themselves up and limped their way out of the bar. Within a few minutes, the bar had largely cleared out, except for a few folks nursing bruises and scrapes.

Waverly nodded in satisfaction, heading to the back of the bar to return Patrice to her rightful place. Rosita was nonchalantly examining her nails, frowning at a small chip in her pinkie. She looked up at Waverly and lifted an eyebrow. Waverly shook her head and rolled her eyes, and Rosita nodded in agreement. 

Waverly headed back to where Wynonna was. Wynonna was sporting a split lip and the beginnings of a shiner, but her eyes were bright and excited. "We could have taken them, Waves," Wynonna admonished. "I think I broke Lee's rib!"

Waverly just let out a wordless noise of frustration, choosing not to engage with Wynonna further. She looked around for Nicole and found her leaning against the corner of the bar, frowning as she pressed a wad of cocktail napkins against a gushing wound at her eyebrow.

"You dummy," Waverly said, and was gratified to see Nicole look slightly guilty. "I expected better of you."

"You really shouldn't have," Nicole said, grinning and then wincing as the motion pulled at her cut. "You don't know me well enough yet to have expectations."

"Harumph," Waverly harrumphed, before relenting. She would never admit it to Nicole, but seeing her dive into action hadn't been the worst thing in the world. "You're bleeding all over my bar. Come on to the back - there's a first aid kit. Not sure you deserve it, but I'm nothing if not compassionate."

Nicole waited for Waverly to come around the side of the bar, trying to look contrite. At the expression on her face, Waverly couldn't help but laugh. She grabbed Nicole's hand, twining her fingers through hers as she tugged her towards the back room. "I guess it's my lot to fall in with hard-headed, impulsive women."

"I think we fall in with you, Waverly Earp," Nicole said lightly, tightening her grip on Waverly's hand. 

All Waverly could think in response was, _Hell of a first date_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, these updates might be slow - life and work are kicking my butt. But I know where I'm going. Let me know if you're feeling it.


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